


Take a Bow

by Naemi



Category: NCIS
Genre: Drama, Gen, Graphic descriptions, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And there he lay, covered in dust, ashes, and blood, amid the ruins of what used to be the NCIS headquarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Bow

**Author's Note:**

> [episode tag for 9.24]

 

Only a couple more files, and he would be done. Tim watched the status bar on the screen. His anxiety grew just as quickly, heartbeat at a thundering pace. He checked his watch, looked back up, and breathed, “Come on.” Finally, _thankgodfinally_ , all data copied. He stuffed the flash drive into his pocket and hastened for the exit.

Too late.

He had no chance of seeing it coming.

The windows in front of him burst into a million glass shards, streaming down like acid rain. The shock wave sent him backwards, knocking him off his feet before he even _heard_ the explosion. He crashed down hard and felt sharp pain shoot through his body, filling him completely. His terrified mind flew toward Abby, praying she was safe.

Blackness engulfed him.

~ ~ ~

Tim woke to deafening silence. His unseeing eyes shot open, displaying sheer terror.

_Blinded, oh my God, oh God!_

His vocal chords protested against usage, denying his cry for help, and Tim's horror doubled instantly. He desperately tried to force his mind into functioning to prevent panic from taking control. His pounding heartbeat hardly slowed, but he eventually succeeded in _breathing_.

He felt shattered, unable to make the tiniest move, as if his whole body had been crushed, pulverized, and put back together again at random. Interestingly, it didn't _hurt_. It felt much more like overall dizziness, mixed with lack of orientation and a loss of control over his senses. The thought was so absurd that it caused an insane laugh to rise in his throat, only to die in a series of coughs that seemed to tear his lungs apart. His whole body tensed, and the pain hit him with overwhelming cruelty.

For a moment, he thought he'd survived the explosion only to croak miserably of suffocation. The attack rose to fever pitch, and when his body decided to give in to the force, he vomited hard enough to cramp his stomach, but his blindness saved him from seeing the blood.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving him panting and whimpering in turns. He rolled onto his side slowly. Cautiously. Substantially weakened. Destroyed.

Consuming despair burnt his eyes with acid tears, torturing him in waves, alternating with an agony that manifested as low groans; designed to be screams, the sounds died in his throat.

Tim prayed innumerable silent prayers for something, _anything_ , to happen. Just before darkness reclaimed him, an inexplicable ray of hope soothed his pain, and the shadow of a smile appeared on his face.

And there he lay, covered in dust, ashes, and blood, amid the ruins of what used to be the NCIS headquarters.

~ ~ ~

“ … Tim!”

“… impossible … no …”

“… right behind …”

“Abs …”

“I can't … Tony?”

“… dunno …”

“Gibbs, don't let …”

“Shh … be okay.”

“Boss …”

“… fine …”

“… the hell away …”

The scraps of conversation reached Tim from somewhere far away. They didn't make any sense, yet they were persistent enough to bring him back. His eyes fluttered open. He still couldn't see more than blurred shapes and shades of grey, but his vision was definitely better than it had been. A deep, relieved sigh escaped his lips. They found him. He was safe now.

“Miss Sciuto, will you please—“

“Out. Of. My. Way.”

Abby's voice was tearful, yet nonetheless bearing a threatening tone. Tim tried to make out her figure among the shadows, succeeding only when she stood right beside him and her familiar scent tickled his nose.

“Abs,” he tried to say, but it came out as a garbled croak.

“Hush,” she whispered, running a shaky hand over his cheek, trailing her fingertips along his jawbone. “I'm here with you.”

“Abby—” Tim's head was spinning from the effort it took to speak, but he couldn't help the need to tell her what he should have told her so long ago; it felt like his last chance, and he could by no means let it pass. He tried to reach out for her, but he was not strong enough to lift his arm more than an inch or two. She took his hand, cupped it in both of hers, and placed a soft kiss against the sensitive spot between his thumb and index finger.

Despite his inability to fix his eyes on her, his mind created a perfect image of her sweet face, without the sadness that lay in her voice, but with an almost roguish smile on her lips. It was the kind of smile she used to give him when they shared a secret, a success, or simply a moment of friendship.

Tim did his best to smile back just the same.

 _I love you, Abs,_ were the words he couldn't manage to voice.

“Miss Sciuto?”

The moment passed, his strength faded, and he closed his eyes again, unable to fight back the devastation of defeat.

Abby kissed his hand once more, nestled her face against his palm, and he felt her tears. Her distress surprised him; she had to know he'd be fine.

“Gotta let go, Abs,” Gibbs's voice sounded from somewhere nearby, unexpectedly soft and almost powerless, and Ziva answered his words with a suppressed sob.

“Gonna be fine,” Tim breathed weakly, drifting away again.

Abby gave a tiny nod. Still holding his hand, she kissed his lips sweetly, so softly that it wasn't more than a ghostly touch that he barely noticed.

“I love you, Tim,” she whispered, followed by another, more desperate kiss, and this one was true, was real, all-so-real and somewhat _final_ that his heart started to flutter wildly. “I love you and I'm sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry!”

When she took a step back, reluctantly letting go of his hand, when he heard her stifled cry—when Tim was carried away, the preceding conversation suddenly hit him, making perfect sense.

~ ~ ~

_Oh my God! Tim!_

_No! No, impossible! Not him, please, dear lord, nonono!”_

_Abby …_

_No, dammit._ No, _it's not fair, it's not_ fair! __

_I thought he was right behind me._

_Apparently not._

_Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. I shouldn't have let him stay._

_It's not your fault, Leon._

_Then whose fault is it?_

_I cannot stop looking at him. He seems so … peaceful. How can he look so peaceful, Tony?_

_Don't know, Ziva. I don't know._

_It is … comforting. Is that weird to say?_

_It makes sense. Oh God._

Abby!

 _Gibbs, but Gibbs, don't let them touch him! No, let me … let go, let_ go! __

_Shh. It's okay. It's okay. Let it all out. It will be okay._

_Boss …_

_I'm fine, DiNozzo._

_But—_

_Said I'm fine._

_Stay the hell away from him! Don't you_ dare _touch him!_

_Miss Sciuto, will you please—_

_Out. Of. My. Way._

_Gotta do something._

_Let her, Tony. She needs to …_

_… realize?_

_Yeah._

_Shit. I don't … I … Oh God._

_Are you okay?_

_No. No, I'm not._

_Hush. I'm here with you._

_Miss Sciuto?_

_Gotta let go, Abs._

_I love you, Tim. I love you and I'm sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry!_

_C'me here. Yeah. Shh._

_Oh, Gibbs, I don't know how to …_

_Shh. It's okay_

~ ~ ~

When acceptance as bright as a summer sky and equally beautiful flowed through him, Timothy McGee faced the curtain with a bow.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Visit my LJ-community [Bunny Bash](http://bunnybash.livejournal.com) to leave me a prompt at any time.]
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


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